


Strawberry Daiquiri

by MissBianca



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, a side of biadore and a touch of shalaska, because that's just the kind of girl I am, cis girls au, honestly it's just 12k of willam being hopelessly in love but not admitting it to herself, with a healthy amount of alaska, witney
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:25:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12102708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBianca/pseuds/MissBianca
Summary: If emotions are for ugly people, then Courtney Act has turned Willam into something hideous.(She tries to hate her for it, but her heart isn’t in it.)





	Strawberry Daiquiri

Willam is a quick thinker. She’s used to knowing what she likes and dislikes about a person within a few minutes of meeting them, and knowing what she wants from them within ten minutes, max. 

(Usually, that’s sex. Sometimes it’s money, but those two often go hand in hand anyway.)

Overall, she thinks she’s a pretty levelheaded girl. She sets herself rules and sticks to them, she doesn’t get confused about what she wants, and she doesn’t do complicated.

At least, she  _ tries _ not to do complicated. 

It’s not always easy, though, as she’s learned. Particularly not when it comes to a certain blonde Aussie who looks, smells, and sings like an angel.

(She hasn’t fucked Courtney, not yet at least, but she’d bet her favorite pair of Loubs that she moans, kisses, and tastes like one, too.)

Willam can’t stand all of the conflicting, confusing things that Courtney makes her feel. Sometimes, when Courtney smiles, the resulting burst of emotion in Willam’s chest feels like a high, and for the first time in her life, she finds herself actively trying  _ not _ to become an addict.

If emotions are for ugly people, then Courtney Act has turned Willam into something hideous. 

(She tries to hate her for it, but her heart isn’t in it.)

Being around Courtney makes her want to drive her precious car off a bridge with the other girl in the passenger seat, hoping they both die on impact, and Willam decides that’s just something she’s going to have to get used to. It’s not like she’s going to cut her best friend out of her life.

(After all, having Courtney continue to tolerate and even like her is probably one of the best things that’s ever happened to Willam. She thinks she’d rather shit out a steak knife than fuck it up.)

Sometimes, Willam manages to convince herself that the feelings are just jealousy. Courtney is way prettier than her, with naturally blonde, wavy hair that doesn’t have to be bleached and dyed and re-bleached and teased into curls to look right.

Hitting high notes is effortless for her, and so is being kind. People like her on sight, and love her after a single conversation. She wants to be a singer, the kind they play on the radio every day, and Willam thinks that if anyone can  _ persuade _ a dream to come true, it’s Courtney. 

She’s slim and gorgeous, but also absolutely ripped - something Willam realized after she was picked up effortlessly by Courtney and carried, kicking and laughing, out of reach of an adorable pet store puppy she was ready to shell out $800 for right then and there.

Courtney had yelled at a giggling Alaska to open the car door, and then she’d manhandled Willam into the driver’s seat and strapped her in with a grin, practically climbing on top of her to do it.

It wasn’t until Willam had righted herself in the car seat and started driving that she realized her panties were sticking to her uncomfortably. And by that time, Courtney was chirping happily about some TV show that Willam had never heard of, and so she’d pressed thighs together and tried to forget all about it.

(It hadn’t worked, and she’d given in and run her vibrator batteries down that night to increasingly kinky fantasies about her sweet-as-vanilla-icing best friend.)

So, most of the time, Willam is forced to admit that it’s not just jealousy. 

Particularly at night, when she has the dreams.

Willam dreams about Courtney more than she’d like to admit. It happens during her accidental naps, and when she passes out drunk, and even when she’s asleep in someone else’s bed after a hookup. 

They’re innocent sometimes, but mostly they’re dirty, the kind of sex dreams that most single women would probably sell their souls to have on a regular basis.  

It’s those dreams that affect her most - or, rather, the part of the dreams that sometimes happen  _ after _ she’s come all over Courtney’s fingers while the other girl whispers ‘ _ whore’ _ in her ear. Dream Courtney will pull her into her arms, playing with her hair lazily or just holding her close, and call her an angel or beautiful or something disgustingly sappy like that. 

And every time, Willam wakes up with sticky thighs and flushed cheeks and a fluttering pulse, pissed as fuck at herself.

Willam does her damndest to push all the confusion and the desire and the slight aching feeling in her gut to the back of her mind as soon as she wakes up after one of those dreams, praying that it stays there throughout the day. 

The last thing she needs is to have the idea of sex with Courtney hovering in her mind if the other girl shows up unexpectedly at her apartment or car, as Courtney tends to do. 

(The last thing she needs is to remember how dream Courtney touched her like other people  _ don't _ , like she was something precious, when real life Courtney is standing right in front of her.)

She has no idea when it became impossible to keep Courtney in her friendship box, next to Alaska and all of their other friends. But Courtney left that box in her dust long ago, and Willam’s starting to get scared of where she might end up. 

\------

“I feel cute in it,” Courtney announces, spinning in a circle in the changing room and posing for the mirror.

“Court, you look like a fucking parrot.”

“I dunno, I think she looks pretty.”

“She could wear a potato sack and look pretty, Alaska.”

“That’s true.”

The dress in question is blue and yellow tulle, strapless and big-skirted. It looks ridiculous, like a Quinceanera gone wrong, and Willam can’t stop giggling.

Alaska draws a circle in the air with one long nail, making Courtney spin again.

“Mmmm…” Alaska hums slowly.

Courtney looks at her expectantly, waiting for a verdict. Willam’s eyebrows lift in anticipation. 

“It's fashion,” she drawls in signature Alaska style, and Willam bursts into laughter again. “No, really, I love it.” 

“I think I do too,” Courtney chirps.

“Mmhm!” Alaska is pressing her lips together, clearly trying to keep from laughing, and Willam side-eyes her.

The mischief is sparkling in Alaska’s eyes, and Willam suddenly gets it.

“Spin for me one more time, Court,” Willam says. 

Rolling her eyes dramatically, Courtney spins once more, her arms flapping back to her sides when she comes to a stop. 

“You know what girl? You should totally go for it,” Willam says, trying her hardest to keep a straight face with Alaska grinning next to her. 

“Really?” Courtney’s face lights up with surprise, and Willam can't help smiling back at her. 

“Yeah, it's cute.”

It's a blatant lie, and Alaska is shaking with silent laughter. Willam elbows her subtly.

Courtney’s got her hands clutched in front of her chest as she looks in the mirror. There’s a curl of blonde hair that’s come loose from her updo, and as ugly as the dress is, the cut makes the lines of her neck and shoulders look even more graceful than usual. 

She turns to look back at Willam hopefully, and the blue in her eyes is even brighter than usual as it reflects the dress. 

“You think so?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

A brilliant smile flashes across Courtney’s face, and something flutters in Willam’s stomach as she looks up at her from where she’s sitting on the bench. 

(The dress might be ugly, but Courtney is so beautiful that it almost doesn’t matter.)

“Okay, I’ll get it,” Courtney declares. 

“Okay, cool,” Alaska says with a tongue pop. “I wanna go back to shopping.”

“Hold on,” Courtney says, holding up a finger. 

She unlatches the door to the changing room and slips outside, and Willam glances at Alaska, frowning.

“What is she -”

“Bianca!” Courtney calls. 

“Fuck,” Alaska mutters.

“Goddamnit.” 

“What’s up, Court?” Adore calls back from somewhere else in the changing rooms. 

“Is Bianca in there with you? I wanna show her this dress I’m getting.”

“Duh,” Adore replies. “Hold up.”

“They’re probably fucking in there,” Willam whispers, and Alaska stifles a laugh.

“Absolutely.”

There’s a shuffling sound, and then another door opens.

“What do you think?” Courtney asks. 

“Oh my god, she’s gonna hate it,” Alaska whispers, and Willam hushes her, standing up and shuffling forwards to peer out the doorway.

There’s a pause that’s a moment too long, and then the sound of Bianca roaring with laughter. 

“Bitch, if you buy that dress, I am no longer your friend,” Bianca announces after she’s done laughing. Alaska gets up and looks out the door too, pushing in next to Willam. “That is so hideous, I’m personally offended, and you’re not even standing close to me. Take it the fuck off!”

“But Willam and Alaska said…” 

Bianca spots the two of them, and starts cackling again. 

“You cunts!” she shouts. 

Alaska is laughing, and Willam is laughing too, clutching her arm to stay standing. Courtney spins around with a horrified expression on her face. 

“Bill!” She exclaims, scandalized.

“What? I didn’t do nothing,” Willam grins at her. “It was Alaska’s idea.”

“I hate you both.”

“You know you love me,” Willam laughs as Courtney rounds on her. 

“Shut up, you cunt.”

Courtney spends the rest of their shopping trip pretending to be annoyed at Willam, and doing an awful job of it. Willam makes sure to tease her constantly, just to see that adorable offended look on her face, and leans on her at every opportunity to soften her up and win her back over.

After Courtney finally gives up the fight, she winds her arm through Willam’s and leans her head on her shoulder as they walk to the mall food court for lunch. Bianca and Adore are similarly attached to each other, ever the clingy girlfriends, and it occurs to Willam that she and Courtney probably look like a couple too.

(To her alarm, she doesn’t totally hate the thought. She brushes a kiss over Courtney’s forehead without thinking about it, and the other girl looks up at her with a sweet smile on her face.)

\------

As Willam finds Courtney occupying more and more of her thoughts, she starts to hook up with men less frequently, and eventually, she stops altogether. She figures it’s a phase, and fucks girls a few nights a week until there's a satisfying ache in her tongue instead of her throat.

When guys hit on her in clubs, she uses them to get free drinks, and then leans against the counter next to whatever other girls they seem interested in and chats them up instead. Her type is blondes, the kind who wear bright colors and look adorably surprised when she hits on them. 

Usually, though, they’re inexperienced, and topping them starts to get tiring really quickly. 

Men might be less work, but her type of men are also big and burly and their hands don’t fit with hers and their hair doesn’t fall in her face and they don’t smell like a pastry shop. 

(And when she closes her eyes right before she comes, she can’t pretend that they’re the woman she was secretly fantasizing about the whole time.)

Alaska asks her about it casually one day, when the three of them are together in Willam’s car. 

“You haven’t brought any boys home in a while, Will,” she drawls from where she’s lounging over most of the backseat, behind Willam. “Are you going fully sapphic? Should we expect a pet cat and a bulldagger haircut soon?”

Courtney giggles from the passenger seat.

“Stereotyping? Really?” Willam rolls her eyes, dodging the question nervously. “What happened to being progressive and shit?”

“It has just been girls recently, hasn’t it?” Courtney notes, ignoring her. There’s a pause, and then, cheeky as ever: “Hey, Bill, I’ve got some Ikea furniture I need assembled -”

“Shut up!” Willam exclaims over Alaska’s burst of laughter, grinning despite herself. “I hate you both.”

“No, really, though,” Alaska insists after her giggles have died down. “It’s totally cool, I’m just curious. Do you not like dick anymore?”

“I like dick fine!” 

“Then what is it?” 

“I dunno, just a phase or something,” Willam shrugs, her eyes shifting towards Courtney momentarily on instinct.

“I mean, can you really blame her?” That’s Courtney. “Sometimes girls are just...better.”

Alaska makes a careless noise from the backseat, and Willam figures she’s probably distracted by something on her phone.

She glances over at Courtney again, this time intentionally, and finds the other blonde looking back at her. Courtney’s smiling and her eyes are bright, and then she’s tugging the edge of her lip between her teeth lightly. It’s not enough to mess up her velvety red lipstick, but it is enough to make Willam speed straight through a red light, jolting Alaska back into the moment.

“What the fuck was that?” Alaska asks, sounding unfazed as ever, and the moment is over. 

(When she thinks about it later, Willam is pretty sure that Courtney hadn’t noticed her run the red light at all.)

Alaska and Courtney don’t mention her current sexual preference again, seeming to just accept it as a fact of life, and Willam is relieved. 

However, Alaska’s silence on the subject doesn’t stop her from wondering about the real reason behind the sudden change herself.

\------ 

After admitting to herself that she’s fucking girls because she’s hung up on Courtney, Willam decides that the next logical step is to catalog her confusing feelings towards Courtney under pure sexual attraction. She figures that if she focuses on the question of what her pussy tastes like hovering at the back of her mind, she’ll be able to keep it simple - keep emotion out of it. 

If the most she wants is to shut Courtney up by pushing her against a wall and kissing her roughly, well, that’s on brand for Willam, and completely manageable. 

But then Courtney shows up on her doorstep on Warner’s birthday, with a meticulously organized gift basket of toys and high end dog treats. Or she teases Courtney about her accent, and Courtney purses her lips in that adorable way that makes Willam want to kiss her real soft, like touching silky rose petals that are too pretty to risk bruising.

Or they stay up after everyone else is asleep on a girls’ movie night, and Courtney drags her outside onto Bianca’s penthouse balcony at 6:30 in the morning to watch the sunrise over West Hollywood. And they’re curled up in a single chair with Willam wrapped easily around Courtney like a blanket, and for once, neither one of them has anything to say. 

And Courtney is warm in her arms and the base of her neck smells like sugary perfume, and Willam’s smiling and her ribs feel tighter over her heart with every passing minute, and all the reasons why she maintains a wall around her feelings start to seem really fucking dumb.

(Bianca finds them on the balcony an hour or so later, asleep in that same position, and wakes Willam up with a touch to the shoulder. Bianca doesn’t say a word, but her responding smile is strangely sad when Willam mouths a ‘thank you’ and starts to untangle herself from Courtney before anyone else notices they’re gone.)

\------

The first time it happens it’s Willam’s doing, but if anyone asked, she’d blame Courtney anyway.

They’re both a little drunk, sharing an Uber back to Courtney’s apartment from a depressing night at a club where neither of them had found anyone worth picking up.

Well, at least, Courtney hadn’t. Willam had abruptly abandoned the girl she was talking up as soon as Courtney had clutched her arm and pouted at her, asking to turn the girls’ night out into a girls’ night in instead.

Skip forwards 20 minutes, and Willam is cornered against the door in the backseat with Courtney halfway in her lap, closer than anyone has any business being unless there’s sex involved. The tipsiness is making Willam’s head spin a little, or maybe that’s just the sugary scent of strawberries and rum on Courtney’s breath from the cocktail she’d been drinking. 

Courtney’s arm is around her shoulders, one leg draped over Willam’s, and she’s talking about something but Willam can’t process the words - some kind of sensory overload from the vibrations of Courtney’s chest against her and the way she smells and feels this close.

Courtney’s always been very touchy with her, particularly when tipsy or drunk, and Willam never has the heart to stop her, even though it’s not her favorite thing in the world. But something about this time feels different, and it’s driving Willam absolutely crazy. 

It’s probably the alcohol in her system, she figures, that's making her let her guard down enough to be more affected than usual. 

(Or maybe it's the fact that she's lost all ability to screen her thoughts around Courtney, and she's pretty sure a mind reader could get off on what’s going on in her head right now.)

She swears she’s living in a movie, sometimes, with the situations she manages to end up in.

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” 

Willam hears that bit, and she turns to look at Courtney just in time to see the other girl laugh.

“No, I am, I swear,” she replies, and Courtney just shakes her head. 

“It’s alright, I know I talk too much,” she shrugs. “But I just felt like something was gonna happen tonight, like I would meet someone that really rocked my world or changed my life or something, you know?”

Willam nods, even though she has no idea what the context is, and then leans her head against the window starts to zone out again, this time watching Courtney as she continues to talk. 

The other girl’s face is so expressive, from her bright eyes to her red painted lips that somehow manage to distinctly express each emotion that she might be feeling, and always in a way that makes Willam want to kiss them. 

She isn’t sure exactly what it is that makes her finally do it. Probably the alcohol and the way Courtney’s breath flutters over her neck.

Her hand is behind Courtney’s neck, pulling her closer, and Courtney swallows the rest of her words abruptly as their lips crash together. 

Willam only regrets her decision for a split second, and then Courtney is eagerly reciprocating, and Willam tastes strawberry daiquiri and lipstick. She’s got a handful of Courtney’s hair, clutched tight as if the other girl might slip away. 

The change happens so suddenly that by the time Willam’s brain catches up with her actions, Courtney’s full weight is on her lap. She’s being pinned to the seat with one carefully manicured hand pressing at her shoulder and the other keeping her chin tilted up, and there’s no room to breathe other than quick gasps. Courtney’s waist feels perfect under her hands, and she loves the way that the other girl’s nose tucks against hers as the kisses get longer. 

(Courtney is kissing her hot and deep, like she wants to suck the life from her, and Willam is hopelessly wet and weak under her already.)

It takes a beep and a pointed cough from the Uber driver for either of them to realize they’ve arrived, and Willam’s legs are so shaky that she has to take off her heels to climb the stairs to Courtney’s apartment. She thinks she might be in shock.

It’s dark inside except for a lamp that Courtney must’ve left on in her bedroom. The gold light slants through the open doorway, leaving just enough light in the entranceway that Willam can see the smudged lipstick on Courtney’s chin and how dilated her pupils are.  

Courtney kicks off her own pumps, breath heavy, and then Willam is being pushed back against the wall, and everything is happening so fast. Courtney’s hands grip at her sides, her body pressing close, lips trailing hot over Willam’s neck.

She’s pushier than Willam expected, more aggressive, and even though it’s turning her on, there’s something almost impersonal about it. 

“Court, wait,” Willam pants out, her eyes fluttering shut as teeth scrape over her throat. She’s not used to being hesitant about stuff like this, but then again, this isn’t just anyone. “Are you... are we doing this?”

“You want to, right?” Courtney breathes against her neck, pressing hot kisses down towards her collarbone. 

“Courtney,” Willam groans, tugging at her hair. “Look at me.”

There’s a low sound that reminds Willam of a growl, and then Courtney’s head lifts, eyes meeting hers. 

“What?” Courtney almost snaps, clearly impatient.

Somehow, it’s not until then, when Courtney’s panting and dark eyed with nails digging hungrily into her shoulders, that Willam processes what all of this means. 

And then, the world shifts slightly on its axis, and Willam feels just a little bit less alone.

“You...want me?” 

“‘Course I do, cunt,” Courtney bites out. Her accent is stronger than usual, and Willam almost doesn’t recognize her like this. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Willam’s lips part, and Courtney’s eyes immediately flicker down to them, her own lower lip crushed between her teeth. She starts to lean closer, but Willam holds her back for a moment, hand still tangled in her hair.

(She wants Courtney back, of course she does, wants to kiss her until she suffocates. But she wants it to be  _ Courtney _ who’s pressing her against the wall, her best friend, not just an aggressive hot blonde who looks like her.)

“Will, are you alright?” Courtney asks, her eyebrows furrowing, concern trickling into her voice. 

“Yeah,” Willam says, feeling herself relax a little at the familiar expression on Courtney’s face.

“Yeah?” 

Courtney looks unsure of herself now, blinking quickly with wide eyes, and it’s so cute and so quintessentially Courtney that Willam can’t help but smile at her. 

(And if she wanted her before, it’s nothing compared to how much she wants her now.)

“I didn’t mean to -”

“Courtney,” Willam cuts her off before the nervous rambling can even start. “I’m fucking awesome.”

The corners of Courtney’s eyes crinkle, and Willam swears that the whole room gets a little brighter as Courtney smiles back at her. She almost wants to say something, but she can’t seem to pull her thoughts together.

And then, Courtney’s leaning in to crush their lips together again, her thigh pressing between Willam’s legs as she moves closer. 

As her hips roll forwards, Willam moans high into her mouth, knees weakening. The muscles Courtney’s thigh flex, and it’s all Willam can do to cling to her and rock against the hot friction, whatever’s left of her hesitation flying straight out of her head.

The sound of her moans seems to spur Courtney on, hands roaming over her body. Her touch is firm and insistent, enough to make Willam ache and gush against the hard press of her thigh.

Courtney fucks her right there against the wall, hand tucked under her dress, face pressed into her neck. When Willam comes, it’s with Courtney’s mouth attached to her pulse point, teeth digging into her skin, sucking so hard that Willam can’t even see straight. 

She eats Courtney out after, kneeling on the floor how she likes to with Courtney perched on the edge of her bed and struggling to stay upright. The insides of Courtney’s thighs are softer than silk, smooth like peaches or coconut milk, and she’s dripping onto Willam’s tongue and chin, and it’s messy and dirty and everything Willam’s been hungry for.  

Courtney’s groans are breathier than she expected, sexier. Willam can’t resist sliding her own hand between her legs to get herself off too, whining quietly into Courtney’s heat. 

Afterwards, the tension melts out of Courtney’s body, and she tugs Willam up and onto the bed with gentle hands. The lamp in the corner casts soft light over Courtney’s angelic face, smudged makeup and bright eyes and a smile that makes Willam warm all over. Her hair looks like spun gold against her pillow, and she’s so beautiful that Willam’s almost afraid to touch her, like she might ruin her somehow if she did.

(Willam’s a slut and proud of it. But for a second, as she looks down at Courtney, she wishes she was something just a little bit better.)

Courtney’s somehow ended up holding her hand. She’s looking up at her almost expectantly, and Willam feels naked, like she’s walked onto a set without a script or a prompter. She waits, hoping Courtney will tell her where the limits are.

“C’mere, Bill,” Courtney says finally, an affectionate smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. 

The nickname breaks the tension somehow, and Willam lets Courtney pull her down and into her arms, tucking her face into her neck. Courtney wraps Willam’s arm around her waist, and Willam exhales, closing her eyes.

It's a little claustrophobic, and a little too hot. But in this moment, she thinks she'd let Courtney hold her forever, if that was what Courtney wanted from her. 

And she's too tired to really mind, anyway. 

Just before she falls asleep, it occurs to Willam that all of this might’ve been a dream. She hopes it wasn’t.

\------

When she wakes up in the early morning, she’s already mentally prepared to disentangle herself from a sleepy, clingy Courtney and leave for the familiar walk of shame. 

But, to her surprise, Courtney isn’t cuddled up close to her anymore. Instead, she’s lying in front of Willam, facing towards her. Hair is falling over her face, a few strands fluttering as she huffs out little sighs in her sleep. There’s space between them, just enough that Willam is comfortable, instead of feeling trapped like she expected to.

One of Courtney’s hands is clasped softly over Willam’s, where it rests flat against the pillow. 

It would be so easy to slide her hand away, breaking the only point of contact between them, and leave without Courtney even waking up. 

Willam closes her eyes, the comforting warmth of Courtney’s touch on her hand the last thing she feels as she drifts back to sleep.

\------

The second time it happens, it’s definitely Courtney’s fault.

They’re all out to dinner, celebrating Adore’s new record deal. The girl in question even more giddy and gorgeous than usual, and she’s leaning heavily on Bianca, who’s pretending to be annoyed. The softness in her eyes gives her away though, and Willam knows how proud she must be.

When Adore’s manager Sharon gives a sappy and drawn out toast, Bianca kisses Adore’s cheek, and the younger girl blushes and grins like the whole world is opening up in front of her. 

(And maybe it is. Willam thinks that if it was Courtney whose dreams were coming true, she might feel a little bit like Bianca does right now.)

Adore is well on her way to having everything the two of them have ever wanted, and Willam thinks that if she were Courtney, she’d probably be jealous. But Courtney isn’t anything like her. And as Courtney laughs and beams at Adore, Willam remembers how lucky she is to be one of the people that Courtney loves. Her heart skips a little.

After a few moments, Courtney glances over, meeting Willam’s eyes with an amused chuckle. 

“See something you like, Bill?”

“Huh?” Willam hadn’t even realized she’d been staring. 

Things haven’t been weird between them since they slept together, which was a huge relief. But there is another level of tension, particularly because they haven’t talked about it. At all.

“Don’t play dumb, I saw you staring,” Courtney says, scooting even closer on the bench and poking Willam’s nose with her index finger. Just like always, Willam fights back halfheartedly with no intention of winning, laughing and leaning away from the finger that’s now poking at her cheek.  

“God, get a room,” Bianca says loudly, eliciting a giggle from Adore. Courtney stops immediately, her cheeks going pink as she rights herself on the bench. 

“Well, I -” Courtney stammers. “ _ You _ go get a room!”

She’s flushing even more now, blinking rapidly, and Willam wants to kiss her cheek like Bianca always does to Adore when she’s embarrassed. 

Instead, she settles for resting a comforting hand on Courtney’s thigh. The reaction to her touch is evident in Courtney’s face, her eyebrows lifting slightly and her lips parting, and Willam high fives herself internally. 

Suddenly, Willam notices Alaska eyeing them suspiciously, and her heart jolts. She pulls her hand back to her own lap quickly, hoping that Alaska will just forget. 

Alaska narrows her eyes, and Willam stares right back at her. Something about the way Alaska’s surveying her feels like a challenge, and Willam was never one to back down. 

Then again, Willam’s also never been challenged while sitting next to Courtney Act, who’s never had any real concept of boundaries or inhibitions in her life. 

It’s only a matter of seconds before fingers brush lightly over Willam’s clasped hands under the table. The touch is light and innocent, but Willam is affected anyway, her skin tingling under Courtney’s touch. The fingers travel over Willam’s knuckles, brushing spirals against the skin, and then down and across the inside of her thigh. Willam breaks eye contact with Alaska, inhaling sharply. 

She glances at Courtney, who’s absentmindedly stirring her drink with her free hand and seems to be engaged in Adore and Bianca’s conversation. 

“You bitch!” Willam whispers, quiet enough that only Courtney can hear.

There’s a sudden pinch to the inside of her thigh, and Willam’s breath catches. She looks back up at Alaska, who’s thankfully been distracted by Sharon. Courtney’s fingers move higher, nudging aside Willam’s clasped hands decisively to slide under her definitely-too-short dress.

“Court, you -” Willam starts, cutting herself off with a quiet hiss as Courtney pinches her again, harder this time. Nails dig into her skin, and she can feel herself starting to ache. 

The pad of Courtney’s middle finger grazes over Willam’s panties, and she thanks whatever god is listening that Sharon Needles is too caught up staring at Alaska to even remember that there’s someone sitting next to her. She’s losing the willpower to try to stop Courtney, probably because she can feel herself soaking through her thong already.

Courtney still hasn’t looked at her. She’s chatting away casually with Bianca, seemingly without a care in the world, as she rubs feather-light circles on the insubstantial layer of mesh covering Willam’s clit. It would be easy to swat her hand away, in theory, but Willam is too busy digging her nails into her own thighs and trying to catch her breath. 

Somehow, with just a few touches and a careless attitude, Courtney’s turned her from a snarky loudmouthed cunt into her own personal playtoy. 

It’s probably the hottest thing that Willam has ever seen, much less experienced. 

(She’d always fantasized about Courtney being the dominant type, but she hadn’t actually thought it was realistic. She’s never been more thrilled to be proved wrong.)

Courtney’s touches are getting more insistent now, dragging across Willam’s core and making her hips twitch. She’s doing her best to keep her face neutral, but she thinks if she bites her lip any harder she’ll bust it. 

There’s a small, mischievous smile on Courtney’s face, and Willam absolutely loathes her with all the brainpower she has left.

Courtney pinches at her clit, and she tastes blood, clenching around nothing. 

Willam closes her eyes, one hand gripping the edge of the table. She knows she’ll moan if she comes, but she’s past caring at this point, shamelessly rocking her hips into Courtney’s touch.

And then, Courtney stops.

The fingers slide back up her leg, and Willam chokes on air. Her thighs close tightly. 

When she opens her eyes, Courtney is finally looking at her, gaze hungry, lower lip tucked between her teeth. 

“Please,” Willam mumbles instinctively, hardly processing her own words. 

There’s a pause, and then Courtney slides off of the bench. 

“Bathroom!” She announces brightly, giving Willam a pointed look before she spins around and heads to the back of the restaurant.

Willam waits ten seconds, then scoots off the bench too, tugging down her dress and wobbling a little in her pumps.

“Hey, where are you going?” Bianca demands.

“Uh, cigarette,” Willam replies, saying the first thing that pops into her head, and then following Courtney towards the back. She can still hear the other girls talking as she makes her way through the tables.

“She smokes?” That’s Adore.

“Not cigarettes,” replies Alaska. “Maybe she meant pot?”

“She left her purse, though,” Sharon points out.

“That’s weird,” Adore comments.

Willam recognizes Alaska’s low voice as the next to speak, but she’s too far out of earshot to hear the words. She figures she’ll probably care about that much more later. 

The door of the single stall bathroom is cracked just an inch, and as soon as Willam starts to push it open, Courtney is grabbing her arm and pulling her inside. The door slams shut behind Willam, and suddenly she’s got her arms full of Courtney, one hand tangled messily in her hair and the other pulling her closer by her hips as they kiss. 

“Court, please,” she pants when Courtney starts to kiss her neck instead, clenching her thighs together. “I…fuck,  _ please. _ ”

“I didn’t know you were the type to beg,” Courtney says, lips brushing over Willam’s skin. “But I think I like it.”

She runs her hands down Willam’s sides, tugging her dress up. Her palms slide back down slowly, one moving forwards to rub over the front of Willam’s hip, fingers teasing the edge of her folds through her panties. 

“Can you just - just touch me already,” Willam groans, realizing how desperate she must sound. 

Courtney fucking  _ laughs _ . 

Willam thinks her cheeks must be as pink as Courtney’s had been earlier. She’s soaked and sensitive and hot all over from Courtney’s very public teasing, and her impatience is getting the better of her. 

(If she’s going to have to throw out a perfectly good thong, then Courtney better hurry up and make it worth it.)

“C’mon, please,” she nearly whines. 

“So polite all of a sudden.” Courtney still sounds amused, and Willam hates that it’s making her even wetter. “Please what?”

“ _ Fuck me, _ ” Willam manages, and Courtney’s hand presses lower, cupping her through her panties. “Oh,  _ fuck, _ please, Court.”

Courtney leans up to kiss her again, and then two fingers are sliding into place inside her. The fingers push deeper, curling just so, and Willam groans loudly into Courtney’s mouth, her hips rising from the back of the door. 

Courtney starts to work her fingers in and out, curling them every time to draw more little moans out of Willam, keeping their faces close so she can cover the sounds up with kisses. As her pace increases, Willam realizes all over again how strong Courtney is, and turns her on even more than the first time.

It doesn’t take long before Willam is cursing and begging again, and this time it’s beyond her control. Courtney pushes in a third finger, and Willam can feel herself dripping down her own thighs, struggling to process anything beyond the ache in her core and Courtney’s biting kisses.

Courtney says something, and Willam nods enthusiastically, not even sure what she’s agreeing to. She can hear the ensuing laugh from the other girl, and she thinks she might be embarrassed if she could think at all. The pressure is building, and Willam hasn’t been fucked like this in ages. She closes her eyes, clutching Courtney’s waist for dear life.

“Come for me, Will,” Courtney pants, only it sounds more like an order, and this time Willam hears her. 

Her climax feels like a car going off a bridge, breaks giving out, airbags popping open, freefalling for what feels like an eternity with no sound except the ringing in her ears. 

(And when she hits the water, Courtney catches her.)

Willam opens her eyes to a cloud of blonde hair, and realizes that her arms are full of Courtney again, face tucked into her neck and arms winding around her waist. 

After a moment, she leans her head back against the door instead. Courtney’s smiling at her, her dilated pupils and heavy breaths contrasting with the adorable tilt of her lips. 

“Well, goddamn,” Willam exhales. “She’s a feminine top.”

The corners of Courtney’s eyes crinkle.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, always the flirt.

“Oh, and she’s cocky, too!” Willam continues, grinning back at her. “She thinks she’s somebody, huh?”

“Your cunt thinks I’m somebody,” Courtney retorts sweetly, and Willam laughs.

“Doesn’t your arm hurt? Jesus.”

“I mean, a little,” Courtney says with a shrug. “Totally worth it, though.”

“A little,” Willam mumbles, shaking her head. 

Courtney leans back in to peck Willam’s lips briefly, and then steps back out of her arms, heading over to the sink to wash her hands. Willam watches from her spot against the wall, gaze running up Courtney’s legs to her ass. 

“You were loud, Will,” Courtney says conversationally. “I bet people heard you.”

“Eh.” 

“Some of our friends could’ve heard you,” Courtney adds.

“Girl, I think Alaska already knows,” Willam says, shaking her head. “She’d have to be stupid to not notice, and she’s not stupid.”

“Doesn’t that, I dunno,” Courtney shuts off the water and glances up to meet Willam’s eyes in the mirror. “Bother you?”

Willam looks up at the ceiling, considering. She thinks that should bother her - she knows it did when Courtney was teasing her at the table - but she’s so blissed out right now that she can’t bring herself to care.

“Not really,” she says honestly. “Why, does it bother you?”

“No.”

“Cool.”

“Back to the table?” 

Willam almost nods, and then she gives Courtney a once-over and shakes her head instead.

“Girl, c’mere, lemme fix your lipstick,” she says, pushing off from the wall and grabbing paper towels from the dispenser. “Your hair is a mess, too. Dumbass.”

“Hey, that bit is your fault! And you should see your hair, it’s even worse.”

“My hair is always a mess. They’ll just think I sucked dick out back or something.”

“No, they’ll think you sucked  _ my _ dick out back, because we both disappeared at the same time.”

“You don’t have a dick, Court. If you did, I’d be sucking it right now.”

“It was a figure of speech!”

“Mmhm.” Willam tosses out the paper towel, and runs her fingers through the top of Courtney’s hair. 

“Hey, wait a sec, can’t you eat me out then? I -”

“Too messy, too much work. Gotta get back to the group.”

“But, Willam…” Courtney pouts, reaching up to untangle a knot in Willam’s hair. 

“I’ll do it later,” Willam shrugs. “We can share a Uber? No one’ll know.”

“My apartment?”

“Unless you want Warner sharing the bed with us.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Cool,” Willam grins, fluffing Courtney’s hair with her fingers one last time. “He’s gay anyways, he’ll stay away from you.”

“He’s a dog, Willam.”

“So what? Dogs can be gay too,” Willam insists, keeping her lips as still as possible so Courtney can fix her lipstick. “You don’t know his life.”

“Will -”

“Have you been a homophobe this whole time, Court? Seriously? I trusted you.”

Courtney giggles, and Willam can’t help the grin that spreads over her face. 

“Stop smiling!”

“Are you done yet, ma’am?” Willam demands, rolling her eyes.

“I’m trying to make you presentable!”

“Fuck presentable,” Willam says, pushing Courtney’s hands off. “I need another drink.”

She unlocks the door, pulling it open and stepping outside. After a few moments, Courtney is behind her, hand sliding into hers. 

“You shouldn’t drink too much,” Courtney says in her ear. 

“Girl, look who’s talking.”

“You said you’d eat me out later, remember?” 

“I can do that drunk.”

“But it won’t be as  _ good _ .”

“You don’t know that! It’ll be good, I promise. I can stay down there longer if I can’t think straight. Just, like, forget to breathe and shit.”

“Well, okay,” Courtney agrees as they near the table. “If you buy me a daiquiri.”

“I’ll always buy you a daiquiri,” Willam grins. “Don’t you know me?”

They slide back into their seats on the bench, and fit themselves back into the conversation. Bianca and Adore are still wrapped up in each other, Sharon seems captivated by Alaska. And Alaska, for her part, is still eyeing the two of them suspiciously. 

Courtney’s head is resting on Willam’s shoulder, their hands still linked together, and Willam smiles at Alaska pleasantly. She raises an eyebrow in return, taking a sip of her drink, and turns her gaze back to Sharon. 

It’s not until later, when the check is on the table and Courtney’s nails are dragging over her thigh again, that Willam realizes she and Courtney have fucked twice, and made plans to do it again. 

They still haven’t really talked about it, other than a few words in the bathroom. Willam doesn’t know what to make of it, but she likes where it’s headed.

(Any direction that leads to spending more time in close proximity to Courtney Act, especially if she’s naked, is a direction Willam wants to go.)

\------

Later that night, it happens for the third time, with Warner locked out of Willam’s bedroom while she gives Courtney an orgasm for the history books. 

The fourth time is the next morning, while Courtney’s magically pulling together a healthy, vegan breakfast from the six items in Willam’s fridge. 

Willam thinks Courtney’s cute when she’s focused. Courtney’s also only wearing one of Willam’s big white tank tops, and her nipples are poking through the fabric, and the scoop neck shows off all the soft skin between her small breasts and across the tops. 

Food always makes Willam horny anyway, just like virtually everything else. And if Courtney’s determination was cute, her halfhearted, giggling protests that she’s trying to cook as Willam feels her up in front of the sink are even cuter.

The fifth time is in the backseat of Willam’s car that night, in the corner of the supermarket parking lot, after Courtney jumps her in the baking aisle.

After that, Willam stops counting. 

\------

“So.”

“Hmm?”

“You and Court.”

There’s a pause, and Willam says nothing, inspecting her short clipped nails as Alaska fixes her with a scrutinous stare. 

“How long has that been going on?” 

“You’re being real vague, girl.”

“You always share Ubers to get home when we go out,” Alaska states.

“We all share Ubers.”

“You always make them drive to my apartment first, even when yours is closer.”

“So?”

Alaska sighs, clearly exasperated. 

“I know you two fucked in the bathroom when we went to Adore’s dinner party two weeks ago,” she says finally. 

Willam swallows, feeling her heart drop into her stomach.

(She knows the happy, thoughtless bubble she and Courtney have been floating around in has to pop eventually. That doesn’t make it any easier.) 

“Fuck, you’re not beating around the bush, huh?” She says after a moment with a nervous chuckle, hoping for Alaska to pull out her Mae West impression and lessen the tension.

“Will…”

“Can’t you just, like…” Willam shakes her head, her hands twisting together in her lap. “I dunno, interrogate Court instead?”

“Why can’t I talk to you?”

“I’m not - I’m not good at this shit.”

“Will,” Alaska says, sighing. “Can you look at me, please?”

After a moment, Willam shakes her head. Her knuckles are turning white, and she’s getting scared of what Alaska might think. 

(Even more, though, she’s scared of what might happen if Alaska forces her to admit what’s going on between her and Courtney out loud.)

“Fuck,” Alaska mutters, frustrated, before falling into silence.

Even though Alaska’s clearly trying to stay relaxed, there’s something  in her tone that sounds almost desperate, and Willam realizes suddenly that no matter what her relationship with Courtney is, it involves more than just the two of them. After all, Alaska’s been their other half since sophomore year in college.

Willam and Courtney had always been a mess, right from the first week of freshman year till graduation. From Courtney’s double major and constant community involvement giving her stress headaches, to Willam’s perpetual morning hangovers, penchant for potentially dangerous hookups, and chronic bad decision making, they’d been a goddamn disaster waiting to happen.

And then there was Alaska from English class, smarter than Willam and more sensible than Courtney, and twice as mature as both of them put together. 

Courtney had decided the three of them were going to do triple room the next year a week after they’d met Alaska, and it had probably saved both of them from self destructing multiple times. 

Alaska had held and comforted Courtney during her breakdowns after Willam had called her in a panic, not able to handle seeing her best friend so upset. She’d gotten out of bed at 4 AM most weekends to pick Willam up from strangers’ dorm rooms and apartments when Willam crashed down from her highs and didn’t know how to get home. 

It’s been years since college, but despite living in separate apartments now, the three of them haven’t lost any of the closeness they built up as roommates. 

And if she and Courtney make a mess of this thing they’ve started, the only thing Willam’s sure of is that Alaska will be stuck cleaning up the aftermath. 

Willam can feel tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. She squeezes them shut, kicking herself internally both for her lack of control and for her thoughtlessness.

(She hasn’t hurt a friend in 307 days. She’s been keeping count since Vicky stopped talking to her in 10th grade, and she hates herself a little bit more every time she has to start over again.)

(She hasn’t cried in front of anyone except Warner in five years.)

“I’m sorry, Lasky,” she murmurs into the dead air between them. 

“I don’t get it,” Alaska says after a moment. “Why didn’t you… just tell me?”

Willam frowns. Opening her eyes, she glances over at Alaska. 

The other girl doesn’t look angry like she expected. Her lips are tilted in a confused little pout, her brow furrowed. And when she meets Willam’s gaze, her eyes are sad.

“Uh…” Willam blinks at her, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“I mean obviously you wouldn’t want to tell Adore and Bianca, but…” Alaska pauses, swallowing. “We’ve never kept secrets from each other, at least, I don’t think we have. I thought - I thought we didn’t do that.”

“Wait a sec,” Willam says. “You’re not…you’re not mad that Court and I are fucking?”

“Will, I’ve been waiting for you and Court to fuck since junior year,” Alaska replies after a moment, dryly. “I just - I always thought you’d, like, tell me, when you did.”

“I…”

“Isn’t that what friends are supposed to do?” 

There’s a vulnerable edge to Alaska’s voice, but it’s something Willam knows how to handle, and her insides are slowly untwisting. 

“I thought you’d be, um, angry,” Willam admits finally. “That we might fuck all of this up, or something. Or that you’d, like, feel like a third wheel.”

“Girl, no,” Alaska says, with a soft laugh. “I know you guys have a different thing going on, and I’ve always been your third wheel anyway, it’s cool. But, I dunno, I wanna be in the loop.”

“Oh,” Willam exhales, surprisingly relieved. She wipes at the corners of her eyes carefully with her ring fingers, wanting to make sure all traces of her tears are gone. 

She can’t help but wonder what different thing Alaska’s talking about, but now doesn’t seem the time to ask. 

“I’m sorry if I freaked you out,” Alaska adds, frowning slightly. “I’m totally fine with you guys fucking, I just wanna know what’s up with my best friends.”

“Okay,” Willam says, crossing her arms and looking up at the ceiling. “Well, we fucked the first time that time we went out without you like a few weeks ago. And then again at Adore’s party, and then…well, a few more times.”

“Are you, like, a  _ thing _ ?”

“Oh, no,” Willam says quickly, shaking her head and laughing. “No. We just keep jumping each other, I guess. We’re, like, super compatible.”

“Okay, girl, I don’t need every detail.” Alaska rolls her eyes. “So you’re like, friends with benefits?”

Willam thinks for a moment.  _ Friends with benefits. _ The title isn’t nearly as scary as she’d anticipated it being, and Willam thinks she could be okay with it. 

“I guess so, yeah,” she agrees. “I hadn’t put a name to it, but.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna hug you now, is that okay?”

Rolling her eyes, Willam opens her arms and beckons Alaska over with a grin.

“So.”

“Huh?”

“You and Sharon Needles.”

“Who's that?” Alaska deadpans.

“Bitch, please. I see you jump outta your chair whenever your phone buzzes. I know it's her.” 

“I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Girl! I'm serious, spill.”

There's a pause, and Alaska’s lips twitch in a slight grin.

“Text Courtney to get over here, and then I'll think about it.”

\------

Life carries on as usual, but with a new normal that includes Willam making Courtney late for just about everything they go to together and Alaska rolling her eyes at them almost nonstop. 

Willam finds, to her surprise, that she doesn’t care that Alaska knows. And when she tells Courtney about their conversation, Courtney seems mostly relieved that it’s not entirely a secret anymore.

If they were inseparable before, it’s nothing compared to how attached at the hip they are now. Nearly every time Willam looks at Courtney, she finds the other girl already looking back, and her heart skips a beat. Willam doesn’t know if that’s a normal ‘friends with benefits’ thing, but she doesn’t question it.

(She suspects that it’s not, which is probably why she tries to avoid thinking about it.)

They spend most nights at each others’ apartments, naked or partially so under the sheets with messy hair and matching smiles. A lot of the time, Willam’s so shaky from how hard Courtney makes her come that she can’t keep her eyes open once they’re done. But she likes it even better when Courtney falls asleep first.

Courtney never pushes Willam to cuddle with her after sex, seeming content to lie next to her, just as long as Willam knows that there’s an open invitation to come as close as she’s comfortable with. And sometimes, she drifts off just like that, with Willam watching sleepily from beside her. 

There’s something special about Courtney when she’s asleep. Some magic to the way that her eyelashes flutter slightly, the way that she snores just a little bit when Willam least expects it.

And when Courtney lies on her back and leaves her hand open on the sheet between them, sometimes Willam will take it and link their fingers together. And Courtney will squeeze her hand tight, as if even in her sleep, she doesn’t want Willam to even think about going anywhere.

From time to time, she’ll fall asleep facing Willam, and Willam will wait until her breathing deepens to brush her hair away from her face gently, maybe rest a hand on her waist and watch her face shift just a little bit as she dreams. 

And occasionally, she’ll leave her back to Willam. And Willam will scoot closer, closer, until her face is buried in Courtney’s hair and her arm circles loosely around her waist, and she can hold her on her own terms, when it’s dark and quiet and no one can see.

(Those are her favorite nights. Watching Courtney breathe isn’t half as good as feeling it, and her hair always smells like flowers. Willam wants to get lost in her and never find her way back home.)

\------

“It’s not too early to get drunk,” Sharon says, closing her menu. 

“Babe, it’s eleven in the morning,” Alaska replies with a laugh, all smiles as she leans into her girlfriend, their hands linked together on the table. 

“I know that, Lasky.”

“So, definitely too early.”

“No, Needles is right,” Willam puts in with a nod. “Also, the level of PDA right now is making me wanna barf. Get a room.”

The three of them are unexpectedly having brunch, a decision that had been made after Alaska had gotten a text from Sharon while she and Willam were in line at Starbucks. Courtney had been absent since the morning, when Willam had woken up to a note bedside table saying that she had plans, and she’d see her later.

Barely fifteen minutes after Alaska got the text, Willam was pulling into a parking spot nearby a fancy looking cafe. Sharon met them inside, along with a country singer named Brian, who she was managing. They haven’t even ordered food yet, and Willam already regrets agreeing to come along.

“Girl, please, as if you have any right to complain about PDA,” Alaska snorts, rolling her eyes.

“Courtney’s not even here!” 

“Then this can be payback for years of dealing with you two.” 

“Who’s Courtney?” asks Brian, glancing around the table with a frown. 

“Willam’s other best friend,” Alaska replies. “The one she likes better.”

“Hey, wait -” Willam starts.

“I’m just kidding,” Alaska laughs. “She’s actually Willam’s other half, and I’m not -”

“Hold up, let’s not get crazy here,” Willam jumps to interrupt, widening her eyes at Alaska. “We’re just dumb blondes who make fun of each other a lot.”

Brian glances between the two of them, an eyebrow raised. 

“She was my first roommate in college,” Willam explains with a sigh. “I haven’t been able to get rid of her, and I’m cool with that.”

“I have a friend like that,” Brian says, nodding. “I get it.”

“Well, I’m getting a cocktail,” Sharon announces. “You all can join me, or you can have fun being children.”

“You know I don’t drink during the day, Shar,” Alaska says.

“One of us has to drive,” Brian shrugs. “I guess I’m drinking water.”

“Same here, and I’m not letting Alaska drive my car,” Willam says, shaking her head. “I guess it’s just you.”

“Oh well,” Sharon sighs, raising her eyebrows. “Your loss.”

The table falls into slightly awkward silence. Alaska’s head falls to rest gently on Sharon’s shoulder, and a small, private smile curls in the corner of Sharon’s mouth. Willam picks at the corner of her menu with her fingernail, and misses Courtney. 

After they order their food, Willam excuses herself to use the bathroom, even though she doesn’t need to. There’s something about watching Sharon and Alaska, so obviously smitten with each other, that makes her hands fidget and her palms itch. 

And there’s no one to reach for next to her, no bright giggles or smell of sugary perfume. No one to watch when she can’t keep her attention on the conversation. 

(She realizes that maybe, she’s so used to being hyper-focused on Courtney that she doesn’t know what to think or how to  _ be  _ without her there.)

Willam stares at herself in the flawlessly polished mirror, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She looks so small, she thinks, standing there by herself. So out of place in front of the classy decor, with her bright, tacky makeup and her crop top and short skirt. 

There’s a sharp knock on the door, and Willam jumps, glancing around. The bathroom is single stall, and there’s probably a line that’s formed by now. Sighing, she looks herself over one more time, and turns to go. 

It’s on the way back to the table that Willam hears it: Courtney’s laugh. The sound she’s been missing all day. 

She freezes in her tracks, scanning the tables around her for the source. Courtney laughs again, and Willam finds her - a window table in the corner, with her back to the rest of the cafe. 

Her face isn’t visible, but Willam can see blonde hair and her hand resting on the table. There’s a strawberry daiquiri on the table in front of her, and a man sitting across from her. 

He’s tall, with friendly, boyish features that seem designed to make hearts melt. Willam can feel her chest tighten as she looks at him, still frozen in place like a rabbit in the headlights. 

The floor is suddenly unsteady beneath her, and it’s like everything she was so sure of is rapidly sliding away while she watches, to shocked to chase after it.

Courtney is giggling again, and she reaches across the table, resting her hand on his. 

Willam’s stomach drops.  _ No. _

The fight or flight response finally kicks in, and Willam starts walking, as fast as she can without bumping into anyone. Alaska calls her name, voice almost drowned out by the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears, but Willam ignores her. 

She has to get out, before Courtney sees her, before Alaska can ask what’s wrong, before she loses her shit and gouges out the eyeballs of the guy Courtney’s with and ruins her brand new manicure. 

By the time Willam figures out where her feet are carrying her, she’s nearly to her car, and she realizes that her purse is still in the booth next to Brian. She leans against her car door instead, arms crossed tightly over her chest, unable to stomach the thought of going back in. 

(Courtney is in there, laughing at a cute guy and touching his hand. Willam wants to go back to 3 AM last night, and hold Courtney tight enough that she has to stay in bed next to her.)

“Will?” Alaska’s voice pulls Willam out of her distress, and she peers out from between her fingers to see the other girl making her way over quickly, both of their purses clutched in her hands. “Are you okay?”

Silently, Willam reaches for her purse. Alaska hands it to her, and she fumbles inside for her keys before unlocking the door and climbing into the backseat with Alaska right behind her. 

The door slams shut, muffling the noises of the street, and then it’s just the sounds of their breathing. Alaska’s seems worried but cautious, making herself as small and unthreatening as she possibly can on the edge of seat. 

“Will, what’s going on?” Alaska asks after a moment, her brow furrowed.

“Courtney,” Willam says softly, just an exhale of breath. 

“Courtney?”

“She was there,” Willam continues, barely a whisper. “With someone.”

Alaska’s eyes widen momentarily, and then she scoots closer on the seat, holding out her hand. Willam takes it without even thinking.

“It’s - it’s stupid, I don’t -” Willam cuts herself off, shaking her head. “I’m just being stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Alaska murmurs, and her gaze is so gentle and understanding that Willam can feel herself getting choked up. “You’re a lot of things, Will, but not that.”

“I just thought…I thought…” Willam swallows, blinking back tears and hurriedly reaching up to rub her eyes with her free hand. “Goddamnit.” 

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t want her to see other people,” Willam finally manages to get out, biting her lip. “I thought she - I thought she knew.”

“Were you supposed to be exclusive?” Alaska asks carefully.

“No,” Willam says, shaking her head. “But I…I haven’t even wanted to, you know, with anyone else, and I thought…” 

“You should talk to her about it, Will,” Alaska says, her thumb running softly over Willam’s knuckles.

“I think I love her.”

The words hang in the air, whispered almost too softly to hear. 

Willam covers her face with her hand, feeling a fresh wave of helpless tears filling her eyes. Her fingers are digging into Alaska’s hand so hard, she’s sure she’s leaving marks. 

“I know,” Alaska says. 

“It hurts,” Willam whimpers. 

“It’s okay, Will.”

Willam just shakes her head, her breath stuttering as she holds back sobs, and Alaska tugs on her hand.

“Oh, come here, honey.”

She lets Alaska pull her closer, releasing her hand and leaning into her chest as Alaska’s arms wrap around her loosely. And then, Alaska is petting her hair gently, and there’s no point in trying not to cry. 

\------

Willam lets Alaska drive her car after all. She stays in the backseat, head down, just in case someone sees them. 

They go out that night, just the two of them, even though it’s a Sunday. Willam finds the person least like Courtney in the entire club, a big black guy who hits on her at the bar.

She tries to want him. It doesn’t work, so she drinks until she can’t tell the difference.

(She doesn’t understand how Courtney can want someone else so easily. It feels like trying to wear a shoe five sizes too big, and she keeps stumbling.)

Willam’s vision is spinning when Alaska finds her out back with him, and stops her before she can do anything she’ll regret. She grabs an abandoned drink off a table inside, and after that, her memory goes blank.

When she wakes up the next morning, she’s tucked nicely into her bed in a pair of boxers and a bra, face wiped clean, with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the side table. Warner is next to her, but there’s no sign of Alaska. 

There is ten texts from Courtney. Willam doesn’t open them. 

She calls in sick to work, pulls the covers over her head, and cries into Warner’s fur over her pounding headache and her stupid, stupid heart. 

\------

She goes to work the next day, and the day after that, going through the motions of life. It would be wasteful and pathetic not to, and Willam’s too proud for that. Alaska calls her frequently, sounding a little more worried every time, and Willam doesn’t bother with trying to reassure her.

(After all, everything’s  _ not _ fine.)

Courtney calls her even more, and Willam deletes the voicemails without listening to them. Every time, the guilt makes her feel a little bit heavier. 

When she texts, Willam doesn’t text back.

She dreams about Courtney one night. The other girl is lying next to her, looking at her with eyes that sparkle in the dim light, and when Willam starts to tell her that she loves her, Courtney kisses her softly before the words can come out. 

In the morning, she wakes up with her chest hurting.

(She didn’t realize ‘heartache’ was meant to be taken so literally.)

\------

On Friday, Willam comes home from work to find Courtney sitting nervously at her kitchen table.

She’s wearing a fuzzy sweater and jeans since it’s October now, even though LA’s still caught up in the heat of summer, because that’s just the kind of person she is. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and her makeup is minimal. 

She looks absolutely beautiful, and Willam forgets how to breathe the moment she sees her. 

And then, Courtney looks up, and her eyes are so sad and confused that Willam hates herself a lot more than usual, just for hurting her somehow. 

It takes Willam a good minute and a half to remember why she hasn’t spoken to Courtney in five days, but once she does, the bitterness settles in her chest again. She locks away her emotions as best she can as she sits down across from Courtney, steeling herself for the confrontation to come. 

“Well?” Courtney demands finally, breaking the silence. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I forgot you had a key.” 

“Willam,” Courtney bites out. 

“We can’t sleep together anymore,” Willam says, her voice cool, not betraying the way her stomach is turning. 

“Why?”

“It’s not working for me.”

“Well, fine,” Courtney says, her jaw tight. “But that’s not an explanation as to why you’ve ignored my calls and texts for five days for no good reason.”

Willam shrugs. 

“I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out what I did to upset you,” Courtney continues. “And I can’t think of anything, and I’m going to explode if I have to -”

“If you’re really that horny, I’m sure you can find someone else to help you out,” Willam cuts in venomously. 

“You’re not just my fuckbuddy!” Courtney exclaims. 

“Oh, really?” Willam cocks her head. “Are you sure about that?”

“You’re my best friend, too, and I -”

“Oh, oh, right,” Willam says with a nod. “Your best friend. With benefits.”

“I mean, that's what we were calling it,” Courtney says, throwing her hands up. “What, you suddenly have a problem with that?”

“If it means I have to share you with whoever else catches your eye, then yeah.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” Courtney demands, her voice raising. “Share me? With who?”

“Anyone? Everyone?” Willam shakes her head, unable to believe that Courtney’s actually playing dumb. “Pretty boys who take you out to nice restaurants and make you laugh a lot?”

“Willam, I don’t know what you think you’re accusing me of,” Courtney starts, glaring at Willam. “But I haven’t slept with anyone other than you since Adore’s dinner party months ago. Hell, I haven’t even thought about it.”

“Oh, cut the crap, Courtney,” Willam snaps. “I saw you on a date last Sunday.”

Courtney just stares at her confusedly, shaking her head.

“With the tall dude? You were at a table near a window, drinking a strawberry daiquiri and having a fucking awesome time.”

Realization crosses Courtney’s face, quickly replaced by offense.

“That wasn’t a  _ date _ !” She exclaims. “That was a meeting!”

“A meeting? What the fuck kind of meeting involves flirting and fucking fruity cocktails, Court?” Willam demands. 

“A professional one!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me about it?” 

“What, do I have to tell you everything now? Is that how this relationship is supposed to work?”

“Yeah, if you’re planning on going on a date, I wanna know about it,” Willam says, keeping her voice as even as she can. “Is saying that crossing some kind of line?”

“It wasn’t a date!” Courtney shrills. 

“Then what was it?”

“I told you, it was a meeting!”

“With who?”

“An agent!” Courtney bursts out finally, slamming her palm down on the table. 

“An - wait, what?” Willam furrows her brow, the emotionless facade she’d put up collapsing just a little in her confusion.

“It was a meeting with an agent, my agent, who I hired,” Courtney says, deflating slightly. 

“What did you…an agent?”

“To negotiate my record deal.” 

Willam’s lips part, and Courtney looks up, meeting her gaze. Things are starting to come together, and the guilt is wound tight in Willam’s stomach.

“Oh my god,” Willam murmurs. “Court…”

“It finally happened,” Courtney says. Her voice is heavy, and it’s all wrong, and Willam hates herself. “I’m gonna be a singer, Bill.” 

“I - I’m so sorry, I thought…”

“Clearly.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Willam asks quietly. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Courtney says, a small, wistful smile on her face. “I recorded a single last month, and…I wanted you to hear it first, before you or anyone else knew about the deal.”

“You mean no one else knows?” 

“Nope. Not even Adore, and it’s under the same label as her.”

“But…why?”

Courtney looks down at her hands, and Willam wants to reach across the table and take them. 

“Because the single is about you,” Courtney says finally, her voice soft. 

“Oh.” It’s all Willam can think to say. Her pulse is beating in her fingertips. 

“All of my songs are about you, Will.” 

Courtney looks up at her, biting gently on her lower lip. Her forehead is creased with worry, the corners of her eyes shimmering with tears, and Willam reaches across the table, palm facing up.

“Is that - are you okay with that?” Courtney asks, voice unsteady.

Willam nods, and Courtney’s hand slides into hers.

(She’s more than okay with that. Her body feels shaky, her ribs close to breaking from the pressure of her heart against them.)

“I’m really happy for you, Court,” she says, and Courtney smiles weakly. “And I’m so sorry for…” 

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” Courtney replies, squeezing her hand. “I’m not dating, Will. I’m not fucking other people, I’m not going out with them. I’m not looking, either.”

“Neither am I,” Willam says. 

“You’re, um,” Courtney swallows, glancing up at the ceiling. “You’re it. For me.”

There’s a tear sliding down Courtney’s cheek, and Willam can’t seem to get enough air to reply. Leaning up in her chair, she reaches across to brush the tear away with her thumb. 

“I have something to tell you, too,” Willam says, once her lungs remember how to work.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Willam says. “I only figured it out like a week ago, but I feel like it’s a long time coming.”

Courtney nods, watching her carefully. The sun is setting, and the warm gold light is catching on the wisps of hair that have come loose from Courtney’s ponytail, framing her face. 

“I think I love you.” 

There’s a quick intake of breath, and Willam’s not sure if the sound came from her or from Courtney. She squeezes her eyes shut, and Courtney’s other palm covers their joined hands on the table. 

Then, the warmth of Courtney’s touch disappears, and Willam can hear a chair being pushed back as she stands. 

Her heart thuds in her chest, and she keeps her eyes closed, terrified that Courtney’s leaving but not wanting to know if she is.

“Will, stand up.”

Courtney’s voice is warm, and Willam opens her eyes to see the other girl next to her. Relieved, she obeys without even thinking about it, stepping away from the table so they're facing each other. Courtney just stares at her for a moment, her expression unreadable. 

“God,” Courtney murmurs, her hands coming up to frame Willam’s face, eyes searching her features. “Do you even realize how beautiful you are?” 

Willam frowns slightly, and opens her mouth to object. But Courtney leans in closer and kisses her before she gets the chance, so sweetly that Willam has to hold onto her waist to keep her balance.

(It’s as if Courtney is putting her back together, piece by piece, with soft presses of her lips, careful hands holding her still in case she tries to run away before Courtney’s finished.)

“What was that for?” she asks breathlessly after Courtney breaks the kiss. 

“Nothing in particular,” Courtney replies, her smile bright enough that Willam almost has to squint. “Just, I think I love you, too.”

\------

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started this like a month ago, and I’ve been working on it on and off since then. So much thanks to my partner in crime, artficialjazz, for being my proofreader and this fic’s #1 fan. If you liked it, please tell me what you thought! I really appreciate people who do.


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